Her hungry eyes pleaded through their tears.
A bit of prayer! He had been praying a little for himself of late, but it came awkward after his years of intellectual complacency. A youngish woman was glancing at him in frightened desperation, as if she waited for something to turn her very life. There was but one thing he could think of in this stress—the divine mandate. Could anything be more complete? When ye pray, say,—
“Our Father which art in heaven—”
VI—A WONDERFUL STORY
John Travis stood with upraised hand. Clearly, slowly, the words fell, and you could hear only the labored respiration of the women. There was a benediction—he could not recall it, but a verse of Scripture came into his mind. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”
“The Lord will bless you,” said the trembling old woman.
He squeezed something into her hand as she turned to go. Mrs. Murphy’s sickly baby began to cry, and one of Dil’s woke up. The little crowd dispersed.
It began to grow dusky. Night came on early in Barker’s Court. Days were shorter, and sunless at that.
Travis stepped back to Bess.
“I shall ask my friend to tell me all about you—she will write it. And I shall come back.” He stooped and kissed Bess on the brow, for the last time. Heaven help her on her lonely journey. But the Saviour who blessed little children would be tender of her surely.